Bringing Home The Doomed
by Manchester
Summary: An "I Want YOU For The New Council!" story. In various realities, Xander offers a last-minute second chance for diverse individuals, using the same proposal every time.
1. Vision and Bifocals

It was time to go out in a blaze of glory.

Inside the building where they'd taken shelter when things had gone really wrong, and standing side-by-side in front of the closed front door that they were just about to dash through in their suicidal rush to the street outside, the two men made a final check of their weapons, not bothering to trade one last glance or comment with each other. Anything that needed to be said between themselves had been spoken a few moments earlier. Now, as the pair held their guns ready, they both took a deep breath-

Behind them, an utterly unexpected voice asked, "Hey, fellas, could I interest you in another option?"

Xander Harris was frankly _impressed._ He'd seen vampires react more slowly than those two guys who were actual blurs as they spun around and pointed their guns at him further back in the room, peacefully holding up his empty hands. Not to mention that those people, during probably the most stressful moment of their entire lives, had refrained from blowing his head off right away. Now, those were first-rate reflexes, even if it wouldn't have worked anyway, considering that Willow's strongest magical wards had been previously placed upon him, making the one-eyed man effectively invulnerable to anything less than a battleship shell.

On the other hand, Xander reflected, as he watched two sets of trigger fingers turn white as they tightened, that'd have really helped persuade the other men that it might be a good idea to listen to what their intruder had to say, what with seeing something absolutely impossible like their bullets harmlessly bouncing off him. Unfortunately, it looked like he'd have to go through the whole tiresome explanations thing again-

The guy on Xander's left roared, "WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?", overlapping the one on the right, who delivered his own version of, "WHERE'D YOU COME FROM?", at the same time and at an equal volume.

Oh, good. That last one was his cue.

Xander lifted up his right hand to hold it cupped before his face, waiting a necessary moment to allow the other guys to pay attention to this, until he then softly blew upon his palm. As Willow had promised, this instantly created a glowing blue globe the size of a baseball floating a few inches above Xander's hand. Smirking at the slack-jawed men standing across from himself, the New Council recruiter now grandly announced, "Guys, the answer to all your questions is this: Magic."

A few minutes later, nobody was paying any attention to the increasing number of bullets being fired into their building, indicating that people outside were becoming impatient. Even the two older men at the table they were now sitting around had stopped ducking whenever ricochets screamingly rebounded off his personal wards that Xander had courteously expanded to cover the entire group. After all, as a grinning Scooby Gang member watched his company, those guys had a lot more to think about than the very familiar experience of being under gunfire. So, who'd be the first to speak up? Musing over this, Xander's single eye shifted at the sound of someone's throat being cleared, as he interestedly regarded the man on his left opening their mouth.

That guy with the blond hair and the mustache then hesitantly asked, "You're really sure we're nothing but made-up people from one of those newfangled flickers in a nickelodeon?"

"We call 'em movies now," answered Xander kindly. "But if it helps any, you're based on actual persons. From what I've learned, they were pretty nice guys, too."

The bright blue eyes of the clean-shaven man across the table from Xander suddenly gleamed, as this individual sardonically drawled, "Things musta changed a lot back in your world, what with folks like us bein' called nice. I mean, we're regular desperadoes, robbin' and rustlin' and doin' whatever we please! Knowin' all that, you _still_ want us to come with you and look after a bunch of young girls who could win a wrasslin' match with a grizzly? Lemme tell you a secret, friend, in case you haven't noticed from all the lead comin' our way, that we ain't much liked here, with good reason! Because for mosta our lives, we sure as hell ain't acted like Sunday school teachers!"

Xander replied seriously, "How well do you think Sunday school teachers would've done against some of the things I've told you about? Look, I've been at this long enough to learn there's an actual difference between men doing bad things and bad men doing bad things. During all your law-breaking, you've made sure that nobody got hurt and otherwise treated people decently. I'm not asking you to turn into choirboys; just be yourselves: guys who are absolutely loyal to those who deserve it, who'll fight for those put in their care, and who can find the fun in anything. For instance, just for a lark, you two once stole a whole cattle herd and drove it through South American jungles and mountains without losing a single head, and then you gave them all away!"

The blond man had been ignoring the others talking while he concentrated upon something far more important to himself. Now speaking up after Xander had finished his heartfelt discourse, this person again asked, a bit more plaintively than last time, "Those real-life guys we're supposed to be, do you know what happened to 'em?" Nodding his head towards the front of their building, which was now being regularly pocked with bullet holes by an exasperated army, this man clarified, "Out there, I mean."

After a few awkward moments of quiet as he hastily gathered his thoughts, Xander sheepishly responded, "Uh, in my world, what happened back then here isn't exactly clear, but there's enough convincing evidence to suggest that, um, you…got killed. And, him," (it was Xander's turn to nod towards the other surprised man), "he somehow managed to both survive and escape, living years afterwards and even visiting relatives."

Out past the magical wards, there was the rattle of gunfire and the shouts of men nerving themselves up for an attack, but at the table, there was only a frigid silence for what seemed to be an eternity, accompanied by a truly baleful glower sent by the blond man towards his friend. Finally, the recipient of this evil look protested at length, "Hey, quit starin' at me like that! You can't blame me for what happened - what's gonna happen - aw, the hell with it! I'm tellin' ya, from what it sounds to me, it coulda as easily come about that _I_ was the one who got killed! So, just calm down-"

"I AIN'T GONNA CALM DOWN!" yelled the blond man. Breathing deeply after his outburst, he now growled at his startled partner while jabbing a pointing index finger at this man, "All your big plans got us into this fix! Well, startin' here and now, you're gonna do what _I_ say over two things, no matter what! First, we're gonna go with this Xander fella to his home, joinin' that New Council gang and learnin' to fight those nasty critters with them strong girls. Then," (that word was hissed through his teeth while sparks of sheer fury were seen through his slit eyes, as the angry man finished), "we're gonna go to…AUSTRALIA!"

Again, there was utter silence among the trio at the table, only to be broken by a hoarse whisper sent from the corner of his mouth by the blond man as he locked gazes with his friend, "Say, Xander, you _do_ got that Australia place there at your home?"

A very dumbfounded Xander managed to reply, "Oh, yeah. Nice country, you'll like it. The other Slayers and Watchers there, they'll welcome you with open arms."

"Good," a very satisfied man spoke as he leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest, jaw expectantly jutting out as he beadily eyed his friend across the table.

Throwing up his hands in exasperation, the clean-shaven man grouchily agreed, "Okay, okay! We'll do things your way, Harry!"

Wanting to make sure it was absolutely clear between themselves, Harry snapped out, "We join the New Council, Bob?"

"Yes!" was the grumpy confirmation from the blue-eyed man.

"And Australia?"

Bob rubbed the palm of his hand across his face once in sheer exasperation, as he groused, "What, you want me to tattoo that name on my forehead? Yes, we'll go there!"

Harry nodded once to himself in absolute contentment, as he now mildly regarded his cranky friend. That annoyed man stared back at his partner, until with a resigned shrug of his shoulders, Bob let his bad mood slip away and allowed himself a faint half-grin at Harry, who anticipated exactly that, as he grinned back. Then, as one, both of the older men turned their heads and expectantly studied Xander blinking at them both.

"Oh. Okay," managed Xander, who next glanced at the front of their building, which was about to collapse from all the numerous bullet holes presently blemishing it. The New Council member also felt the earth shake under his boots, as an armed mob began their rapid charge towards where their gringo enemies were hiding. All this made Xander hastily grab the dimensional charm hanging from the end of the necklace under his shirt, sending his own wide grin towards the waiting other men, as the one-eyed traveler between realities squeezed the charm several times between his fingers, indicating he'd successfully accomplished his mission, and it was now well past time to be brought back home, along with his companions.

As all three men then abruptly vanished into thin air from around their table, a very pleased last thought ran through Xander Harris' mind in 1908 Bolivia: life was surely now going to get a _lot _more fun at the Cleveland Slayers House. Guaranteed. After all, you couldn't expect anything less, not with the New Council's latest recruitment for this demon-fighting organization of such entertaining people as Robert LeRoy Parker and Harry Longabaugh, alias Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.


	2. For Sale, Cheap: '66 Thunderbird

*Okay, time to get things started here.*

As he sat in the back of the car racing through the desert country, Xander Harris wasn't really looking forward to the moment when he'd have to phase out of his currently intangible form to rejoin the material world. Judging from the way the heads and upper bodies of the two women in the front seats of the '66 Thunderbird convertible were bouncing and jerking, both up and down and from side to side, as their vehicle drove at its top speed over the rough terrain, it was clearly a hell of a ride.

Glancing over his shoulder, the one-eyed man resignedly noted that virtually every cop car in the entire state was indeed in hot pursuit, spread out in a line at least a mile wide, and sending up a massive dust cloud behind themselves as they also hurtled after their quarry. All of the chasing automobiles had their light bars on, sending flashing bursts of illumination in all directions. He couldn't hear anything in his present state of being insubstantial and invisible, but from what he remembered at this point in the movie, the sirens of every single police vehicle back there were loudly blaring, which seemed to be a bit excessive at this moment to Xander. What did they think, that the local jackrabbit population actually needed to be warned to pull over to the side of the road and let them pass?

A large shadow swept over the careering automobile, and the pair of fugitives in their front seats instinctively ducked. Xander looked up to witness a police helicopter slow down to fly over and alongside the car below racing in its hopeless escape attempt. Bringing down his gaze to study how the shoulders of the women unknowingly sharing their classic Ford with him then simultaneously slumped in despair, Xander nodded to himself. It had to be absolutely clear to them now, those women whose lives had turned completely upside down over the past few days, that there was no longer any possible means for Thelma Dickinson and Louise Sawyer to make a successful getaway.

Which was at the point where a dashingly-handsome New Council recruiter came in, natch.

Making sure his mouth was firmly closed so that he wouldn't bite through his tongue during the first few seconds, Xander tapped his belt buckle in the proper fashion that Willow had shown him, just after she'd placed the necessary spell upon this object of clothing, and the young man then materialized onto the back seat of the open-top convertible.

Instantly, Xander was hit with a combined blast of noise, wind, and bodily shocks, as he frantically held on for dear life. The heaving and lurching of the Thunderbird as it drove over the rough desert ground was bad enough, but the rest wasn't all that much fun, either. Xander hastily closed his remaining eye nearly shut, but he was still blinded anyway by the sudden tears produced by the rushing air passing by at freeway speeds and hitting the man right in his face. Wincing at the screaming howl of a car engine pushed well past any sane motoring limits, Xander estimated how loudly he'd have to shout over that sound, and then the former Sunnydale resident opened his mouth.

Grimly staring straight ahead, both Thelma and Louise heard from directly behind themselves, totally out of the blue, a very cheerful yell:

"HELLO, LADIES!"

An astonished Thelma in her passenger seat promptly twisted her head and entire body halfway around, to see sprawled out in the back seat of their car, a complete stranger who shouldn't have possibly been there, much less grinning at both of the flabbergasted women staring at this man with a black eyepatch. Yes, Louise was also gawking over her shoulder at their totally unexpected visitor, but then that waitress suddenly remembered something that should have also occurred a fraction of a second ago, and she hastily spun her head back to disbelievingly regard not only the steering wheel gripped in her hands, but also the brake pedal down on the car's floor.

Repeating her automatic actions just a moment before when she'd heard that unforeseen voice coming from behind, Louise again stomped on the brake and tried to turn the steering wheel. All to absolutely no avail. There seemed to be some kind of unseen force holding those automobile parts utterly immobile, leaving Louise unable to exert any form of control over her car. Instantly linking this bizarre event to the equally weird appearance of that guy in the back seat, the curly-haired woman again hastily looked over her shoulder, to see this man calmly watching her.

In his head, Xander was mentally congratulating himself for getting Willow to whip up a spell that'd keep the Thunderbird from being wrecked if the driver had been naturally startled by Xander's incredible appearance from thin air, so that she would've unthinkingly done something that would have surely caused an accident. Now, for the next couple of minutes, the car would automatically drive itself, straight ahead at its present rate of speed, giving Xander enough time to tell his story and allow the women incredulously listening to this a chance to make an entirely different choice from what was coming up fast a few miles ahead.

Seeing the open mouths of Louise and Thelma, who were clearly about to demand some kind of explanation, the man quickly introduced himself. "Hi, I'm Xander Harris, and I've got an offer for you both! Now, here's the thing: I'm from another dimension-"

A minute or two later, Thelma was dazedly watching how this Xander guy was waving his right hand in front of himself, to produce an effect of various parts of his body turning transparent, which was a result of what that one-eyed man called a 'glamour' spell. Apparently, this piece of real, honest-to-goodness magic was also making sure that nobody in the police vehicles hot on their tail would see that the two women had somehow picked up a passenger. This same person had presently just upended his listeners' entire existence with his short speech about the New Council in another reality, and an equally hurried offer for the fugitives to leave behind their current predicament. Otherwise, things were without a doubt not going to end happily for Thelma and Louise.

About that… Thelma now glanced over at where Louise was, and the younger woman's attention abruptly became caught in her sheer horror at what she was seeing there.

Tensely holding the steering wheel despite there being no actual point in this, Louise was staring straight ahead, hopelessly weeping, while also moaning to herself, "I c-can't go through with it, not getting away scot-free. I've done too much, had too much done to me. I'm so, so _tired_ of it all-"

Knowing this was a pivotal moment, Xander promptly leaned forward from his position in the back seat, putting his mouth just a few inches from Louise's right ear, as he then spoke directly from the heart:

"Louise, believe me, _lots_ of people in the New Council know all about having shitty lives and the resulting bad decisions that wind up in events spiraling out of control, ending up with being locked into the kind of mindset that insists there's no good way out, except for every possible type of running away. _But_…we also know about atonement and redemption, even when it's the hardest thing in the world, asking too much of yourself, or even worse, too little or being unable to see how this makes any kind of difference. Right now, I'm _not_ offering you a card that says 'Get Out Of Jail Free'. Sooner or later, everybody pays for their actions, and it might not be in a court of law, but you'll one day have to confront what you've done, in front of the harshest judge ever: yourself."

Xander took a moment to gulp a quick breath, while he stared at the unmoving head of the woman in the driver's seat, who hadn't seemed to be paying attention. Praying this was untrue, the man determinedly continued speaking, "What helps the most then are your friends. Those people who've seen you at your absolute worse and still like and trust you enough to stay on your side and keep supporting you when you really need this. You rely on them, and they rely on you, because someday they'll screw up too, and at that time, you'll back them up to the gallow's foot, if necessary."

Just after Xander finished his last words, Louise abruptly turned her head, but she didn't look at him. Instead, the older woman with her tear-stained face stared across the front seat at Thelma smiling and nodding back at Louise, as that brunette allowed her own tears to trickle down her cheeks.

There was a single frozen moment, until Louise finally understood what she had in her life, and that woman instantly let go of her right hand from the steering wheel, holding out this hand towards Thelma, who immediately grasped this firmly in both of _her_ hands, as the women rekindled between themselves an implicit vow of eternal friendship.

Sagging back in his seat, Xander blew out an immense sigh of relief. Not merely over the positive decision having been resolutely made in the front seat a moment ago, but from what would surely come of it all. For one, it appeared that he'd soon be heading back to another dimension's Cleveland with two more recruits for the New Council, which would make a _lot_ of people there very, very happy. From what he'd heard in his last message from Willow a few days ago, enough catfights had resulted among the older Slayers worldwide that Giles had eventually been forced to set up a lottery for every one of those superhuman young women. The lucky winners, enough to fill up the entire auditorium at the Joyce Summers House For Exceptional Women, would be the first to hear directly from Thelma Dickinson just what it had been like to sleep with Brad Pitt.

Xander's mischievous smirking over that soon-to-be-scheduled supremely absurd event abruptly changed into an expression of appalled dread, as he now stared past the heads of the two women gazing into each others' eyes. A frantic coughing spell by Xander finally captured the attention of Louise and Thelma, as they turned in their seats to look in bewilderment at the man in the back of the car now having a very sickly smile upon his features.

As he apprehensively watched the oncoming horizon and the empty space beyond this approach at their vehicle's fastest speed, a remorseful Xander hastily explained to his aghast companions, "Uh, ladies, we're about to begin the really tricky part of our trip back to my home. See, it's not like we can just stop the car here in broad daylight and then you disappear into thin air right in front of a few zillion cops. We need a good reason why nobody ever finds any bodies, so, um, you better hang on…"

Twenty seconds later, Thelma and Louise were both screaming in absolute terror at the tops of their lungs, as the '66 Thunderbird reached the apex of its leap into an immense canyon, with their car about to plunge hundreds of feet to the hard ground below, and while he desperately clutched his magical charm that would definitely transport them all through the dimensions in time to avoid certain death (but not damp underwear), Xander Harris added his own manly shriek:

"WILLOW, NOW WOULD BE A GOOD TIIIII-!"


	3. No Big Boom Today, S'il Vous Plaît

Fog?

In the _desert?_

Gaping at the kilometers-wide dark cloud ahead of them touching the ground and bisected by the road they were driving along, which ran forward to disappear into the mist, the two men in the truck cab saw the other truck parked by the side of the route. That meant it'd been there at least a half-hour, since for safety reasons they had to keep their vehicles this far apart for that length of time. Glancing at each other, the driver and his passenger fatalistically shrugged in unison, and then without a single word being exchanged between themselves, their own truck came to a cautious stop a few tens of meters behind the leader. For whatever _that_ was worth, considering the supremely dangerous cargo in both trucks.

Getting out of the truck cab, the men then closed their vehicle doors as gently as possible. It would have been far safer to leave these metal panels open, except there was always the chance of a stray gust of wind slamming closed the doors, with potentially devastating consequences. Walking side-by-side, the pair of men warily skirted the first truck, to then see their companions standing together in front of this means of transportation and glumly staring at the thick fog just a hundred meters ahead.

The younger of the two men approaching the other pair waited until he could speak without raising his voice (_anything_ could set off their load), directing his anxious question at the blond man at the left of the burly and much shorter dark-haired man, "What are we going to-"

A yelp of pure fright instantly uttered by the mechanic next to the blond driver interrupted this, as the others' attention was caught by following this man's horrified gaze, to at once see the wholly impossible. Despite it being totally calm around themselves, without the faintest breeze, the fog ahead was now churning and flowing towards the quartet at an immense speed, just as if it was being blown by gale-force winds right at the four men.

Instinctively, the group stepped backwards, only to be caught in the fog anyway, as it then swirled around them all, instantly changing their surroundings into murky gloom that reduced their vision to only a few meters around these men. A moment later, those individuals became absolutely terrified, as they then found themselves unable to move a single muscle, being completely paralyzed and looking straight ahead, so that they could only see their companions out of the corners of their eyes.

Then, it _truly_ became unbelievable, as the four men began to watch the movie that was now being shown inside their minds, at an extremely high rate of speed that was still comprehensible to each and every one of them. With good reason. After all, they were actually _in _the movie, speaking and acting exactly as they'd done in the last few days in the isolated desert town of Las Piedras, a truly unpleasant place that none of them would have wanted to live there or even visited, if they'd ever had any choice in the matter. Nevertheless, the movie continued in their heads, just as if an unseen camera had been observing them during every second of their lives in that horrible town.

And then, the movie next showed what was going to fatally happen to the four men.

When their strange immobility eventually ended, at the very same instant the movie in their brains switched off, the shocked group could do nothing but stand there, hearts hammering as they recalled their future selves' violent deaths. Until something else occurred, just as inexplicable as the other recent events.

Strolling out of the fog ahead of themselves, a shadow shifted into the figure of a man they'd never seen before in their lives. Looking at least a decade less than the youngest of their group, this stranger with a black eyepatch still managed to appear much more mature than the oldest of the four men. Coming to a halt in the middle of the road a couple of meters before themselves, this man casually nodded to them, and then he asked a single question in a very composed voice.

Mario heard this inquiry in perfect Corsican.

Bimba blinked at meeting someone else in the middle of South America who was speaking flawless Dutch.

For the first time in years, Luigi listened to the native Italian dialect of his beloved home village.

Jo thought he'd finally gone insane, to be addressed in this utterly desolate spot by another Frenchman, who from his accent could only be from Paris itself. Particularly when his fellow countryman had just asked:

"So, would you people actually be interested in some kind of alternative instead of getting messily killed while hauling two truckloads of nitroglycerine to an oil well fire?"

* * *

Sitting in his corner of the guest quarters at the oil field, Jo drew in a deep lungful from his Gauloises, and then he exhaled the smoke in a steady stream through his nose, adding to the small cloud that clung to him, as if the mature man was trying to recreate the fogbank where he and his companions had chosen a new life for themselves several hours ago. Closing one eye and using the other to squint at the lit end of his pungent cigarette, Jo gloomily mused on just how much longer he'd be able to do this, since their rescuer had been remarkably insistent that their next stop in another dimension was a totally smoke-free zone.

Oh, the barbarity of it all.

And what exactly was a 'nicotine patch' as mentioned by Alexander LaVelle Harris?

Another long inhalation of murderous Turkish/Syrian tobacco was performed while Jo tried to distract himself from his depressing thoughts by reflecting instead about that specific jeune homme. At least Monsieur Harris had a good French middle name, which was a clear point in his favor. Not to mention making sure that in this dimension that piece of merde film wouldn't ever happen. Le Salaire de la peur, bah. What did Alexander call it in Anglais? Oui, the Wages of Fear. Merde, merde, merde.

Viciously breathing out a blast of smoke, Jo grumpily glanced around the room, and then he suddenly felt his mood brighten. The rest of his companions here with him were in the same positions they'd been in ever since the quartet had been escorted here from the payroll office. Mario was pacing back and forth in the middle of the room. Bimba continued to slouch in his armchair like a lazy lion, hands clasped together at the back of his head, as he sternly gazed at the ceiling. Luigi was sitting up straight in his own chair, staring ahead while wonderingly touching his chest and then taking deep breaths, as if to be sure he wasn't in some kind of impossible dream.

Well, no wonder, Jo nodded to himself. Having your fatal lung disease instantly cured by magic would be a considerable shock to anyone, even such a down-to-earth guy as Luigi. Regarding that, Jo idly pondered just how the Italian would do in his new life around those strange people their rescuer had told them about: Slayers, Watchers, and the really disturbing demons and vampires. The Frenchman frankly doubted that Luigi would be willing to go into action against what lurked in the dark at their new home. While brave enough when forced to be, as shown by his agreeing to drive one of their nitroglycerine trucks, the burly little mechanic was more of a worker than a warrior. Nodding again to himself, Jo confidently decided that Luigi would probably become part of the support staff of the Nouveau Conseil.

*Bimba, now… Ah, an Observateur, for sure,* Jo decisively thought. That fierce man could finally find something, or more likely, someone, to shield and fight for. *Bon, let him be one of the guardians. He will no doubt do very well in that.*

Jo glanced up as Mario strode past, to then whirl around while showing an edgy face as he continued his impatient pacing. Gazing after his young comrade, the older man thought, *Hmm, who knows about him? He has so much of his life ahead, that it's hard to say. Especially when you add whatever happens when Alexander returns. That will be most interesting.*

Thinking of the one-eyed man who'd left them after magically transporting their trucks a day into the future and just an hour's travel from the oil field ("Let's not cause anyone to ever start wondering how you got here so soon, okay?"), Jo now allowed a faint grin to form on his lips, until his features abruptly soured. There was one more of their company that needed to be judged as to their fitness in joining that organization devoted to protecting their world from monsters.

Himself.

Unnoticed, Jo grimaced as he recollected his distasteful conduct as shown in that damned film. The Frenchman was not pleased at all about any of his actions and behavior over the last few days, from getting stranded in the pestilential town of Las Piedras, and finishing off with his utterly puerile death under the wheels of their truck. *You are far, far better than that,* Jo mentally scolded himself. *Oui, desperation is the enemy of cleverness, but now it's time for élan again.*

Well, the trip from their new starting point that ended up at the oil field and the hasty unloading of their truck had allowed him to think deeply about regaining his self-respect. At least Jo hadn't been distracted by their tremendously hazardous cargo. Before his departure, Alexander had assured them all that no matter what, the nitroglycerine wouldn't explode until it was placed in the oil well fire and detonated. That had given the Frenchman an opportunity to come up with something that, for the first time in a good while, actually made Jo feel proud of himself.

In his corner of the guest quarters, Jo patted the right pocket of his pants and smiled in satisfaction at the touch which revealed the empty contents there. Just as enjoyable had been the startled looks on his companions' faces when Jo had told the oil field clerk at the payroll office that instead of handing the Frenchman the check he was owed for getting the explosives there, that money was to be wired to Las Piedras. The very same place where Jo had been stranded, broke and unable to leave, just like a good many others there caught in the same situation. However, every one of those expatriates now had an actual plane ticket that allowed them to fly out of there back to civilization, all paid by Jo.

Jo's pleasure had only increased when Mario had then swaggered up to the clerk's desk, and casually told that oil company employee to do the same with the Corsican's check. Wire this money to his acquaintances at the town, with also a message sent along telling them to evenly split this windfall among themselves, and good luck to them all. Walking away from the startled clerk, Mario had caught Jo's eye, and instead of the exceedingly guilty glances this younger man had been sneaking at his friend ever since both had learned how things turned out in that movie, the two men now shared a gratified look.

The pair of Frenchmen had their silent tête-à-tête interrupted by Bimba's rasping bark of laughter, as the Dutchman then strode up to the clerk and ordered that his own money be distributed exactly as Mario had just arranged. Grinning tightly, the blond man made way for Luigi bustling up to the desk, as that little mechanic proudly confirmed that his check should be sent back to the town expatriates, just like his friends had done.

Back in the guest quarters, Jo allowed himself a warm glow of satisfaction. The four of them in this room, all who'd have died without the surprise intervention of someone from another world, now had another chance in their lives. So, the best way to celebrate that was to give others a truly unexpected opportunity. The expatriates in Las Piedras would have their own chance to restart their lives, and what more could anyone really ask for?

As Mario once again strode across Jo's line of vision, interrupting his fine mood, the older man had the corners of his lips sardonically quirk upwards at his friend's evident anxiety. Ah, the impatience of youth. Perhaps he should tell Mario to calm down-

A quick knock at the door of the guest quarters caused everyone inside to become still. Then, as the door suddenly opened, the heads of the four men turned to see their rescuer, Alexander Harris himself, standing in the doorway, a wide grin on his face as he beamed at his newest recruits for the New Council. Stepping inside the room, this man maintained his wide grin throughout his next announcement.

"Gentlemen, may I present someone else who's coming along with us?"

Fearfully, a woman who just an hour ago had been resigned to a sad and lonely life working as an unskilled servant girl for a bullying cantina owner now walked into the room, carrying in her arms the small sack containing her few pitiful possessions. This sack was promptly dropped onto the floor the very second that Linda saw a frozen Mario standing in the middle of the guest quarters, just barely able to meet her eyes and not sure at all how she truly felt about him. He promptly found out, as did the rest of the amused onlookers, as Linda now dashed forward and threw her arms around him in a desperate hug, leaning her head against Mario's chest, as she started joyously sobbing. Looking down in bewilderment at the crying woman, Mario instinctively put his own arms around Linda, and as she sighed in contentment, the Corsican instantly felt an overwhelming desire to always have her at his side to be protected and cared for by this man.

As a cheerful Bimba and Luigi both clapped their hands on Mario's shoulders to indicate their approval of how things had turned out, Jo remained in his chair in the corner, smiling at the scene before himself, until the mature man caught the single eye of their astonishing guest across the room with his hands happily stuck in his hip pockets, rocking back and forth on his feet. As Alexander Harris grinned back, Jo cheerfully thought in the privacy of his mind: *Ah, that jeune homme there can be nothing but a Frenchman hidden inside an Américain. How else would he truly understand romance?*


End file.
